


Forgiveness

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Roxy Adaar had a complicated relationship with the Iron Bull, complicated in that he was the crux of her trust issues having caused the Ben Hassrath raid that killed her mother.  But if she can dothis maybe she can forgive Blackwall one day.





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago and planned for it to be part of a much longer fic that covered Roxy leaving Blackwall and the start of a poly relationship with Cullen and Bull but I never really got around to finishing it. This however was a pretty good stand alone piece from early in the story.

               He knows when he sees her saunter into the tavern, her walk all swagger and her eyes like a rabbit in a trap.  He throws his hand and kicks his chair back ignoring the annoyed look from Varric who knows damn well Bull didn’t really lose.  Those big blue eyes know exactly where he is and they look everywhere but at him as she walks to the bar.

               He watches her lean on the bar and make small talk with Cabot, he expects to see her do a shot _for courage_ , she’s done it before but she only turns and rests her elbows on the bar behind her while she listens to the Sutherland boy talk her ear off. Bull doesn’t mind.

               It gives him time to admire the work she’s put into it.  The clothes she wears are almost traditional except that she’s never belonged to the Qun.  Not new though, she’s comfortable enough in the style.  In her usual clothes she looks small, at least for a Qunari, and soft but he can see the muscles in her arms flexing as she pushes herself upright. 

               Big, nervous, eyes lock on him.  She’s confident everywhere else, and he’d bet the coin he’s just purposely lost that even she believes it.  He would too if her eyes weren’t just a little bit too round.  She stops at Varric and congratulates him to a chorus of groans and jeers from the games losers. 

Bull knows she’s just killing time, working up the nerve.  She hovers over the dwarf’s shoulders until the players disperse and he pretends he didn’t see Varric hand her the purse full of sovereigns he's just lost.  Her lips turn up in a smirk as Varric takes his leave and she tosses the purse to him.

“You lost something?”

He chuckles and makes a show of looking at her, like he’s only just noticed that she’s dressed like a convalescing Tamassran.  “You wanna talk, Boss?”

He _knows_ what she wants to do, what she wants him to do, but he wants her to say it.  She thinks it’s about Blackwall, and he wonders what she’d say if he told her Thom Rainier was only the catalyst. 

She perches on the chair beside him, chewing her lip.  The corner of her mouth twitches with words almost said.

“You loved him,” he starts for her.  He has no problem with what she wants, but he needs to know she understands.

She nods.  “I want to _keep_ loving him.”

“But?”

“I can’t.” He’s surprised that she doesn’t sound sad.

“Because of me.”

“That’s part of it.”

“Do you think it’ll help?”

She shrugs.  “I tell myself if I can do this, then I’ve forgiven you, and if I can forgive you then I can forgive him too.  Even if it’s a lie at least I can forget for a little while.”

“At least you’re honest.”

They go back to his room and she lights the candles for him with a quick snap of her fingers.  A trick she picked up from a hedgemage in Antiva she tells him.  She helps him with his harness, her nimble archers fingers loosen the straps and make short work of the buckle.  She steals a kiss when he slides it down his arm.

The kiss is quick.  Nervous and shy, her lips brushed against his and just the faintest brush of tongue before she stops.  Her cheeks flare red and he tries to stop himself from laughing.  She’s the farthest thing from delicate and yet here she is blushing and delivering chaste kisses on tip toe.

The harness dealt with he sits on the bed and pulls her onto his lap, he covers her mouth with his and nips at her lip; teases her tongue until her weight shifts and she’s not sitting on his lap but straddling his leg pressing him back into the mattress.  He lets her _, for now_.

One big calloused hand slides up her bare belly to cup a breast and she presses back against his thigh, moaning into his mouth.  She thinks she’s in charge but it’s his tongue setting the pace, ravaging her mouth while he explores the curves of her body with big rough hands.  He grapples with the buckle of her belt, the ties of her pants and slides them over her hips.

She breaks the kiss and makes to move but he stops her.  He holds her where she is with rough hands on her firm ass, blunt fingers dancing over skin until he’s found her center.  Her mouth finds his throat as he traces her slit, tongue and teeth draw a groan from him despite himself and then she’s biting down on his shoulder as he slips a finger into her.

“F-fuck,” she gasps into his chest pressing back against his hand.  She arches her back, hands fisting in her hair and he’s mesmerized by the roll of her hips as she fucks his hand. 

The spell is broken when her halter lands on his face and she kisses him while he’s blinded by silk.  When he can see again everything is obscured by breasts.  He catches one dark nipple in his teeth and smiles into the flesh as her hips buck into his hand.

He’s painfully hard. the vision of her above him, biting her lip, tits bouncing, one hand in her hair the other braced on his chest, nails making new marks in his flesh, it's intoxicating.  The friction of her knee in his groin is maddening and he can tell by the frantic way she’s whining his name that she’s so close a good breeze could put her over.

He withdraws his hand.  She whines, eyes flying open searching his face.  He smiles and sits up to meet her, one wide hand holding her steady on his leg while he runs his tongue between the fingers of the other, tasting her.  She leans into him taking one of those fingers into her mouth, her cheeks hollow with the suction and he thinks he might be fooling himself about who is in control.  Bull picks her up and places her on her feet in front of him.

“Alright Boss, time to lose the rest.”

She licks her lips and sets to work, watching him while she unfastens her boots and slides her pants the rest of the way past knees and calves.  Her mouth curls into a smirk when she’s done.  “Alright old man, you too.”

Bull laughs and toes off his boots, she watches him while he undoes his pants, standing and letting them fall to the floor at his feet.  Her hands are on him before he can crack a joke. One practiced hand on his dick steers him back to the bed the other runs the length of his body tracing scars and lines. 

He lets himself fall into the bed and watches her as she bends to kiss a particularly nasty scar inside his thigh.  She turns her attention to the flesh in her hand and he watches her as she draws her tongue up the length of him and swirls along the tip.

“Alright,” he shudders as she takes him in her mouth to the hilt, without struggle.  He watches her head bob, cheeks hollow, eyes trained on him.  He resists the urge to take her by the horns and fuck her face.  “Up here, Boss.”

It pains him to stop her, but he reaches down and tugs her upwards.  She moves slowly stopping along the way to trace scars with her tongue, when he can finally reach her ass again her grips her tight and draws her up to mount his face.

She grips his horns and he can feel her restraint each time her hips buck against his face.  His tongue traces labia and he sucks her clit between his lips, it’s not long before she’s pushing his head back and grinding her hips into his face.  He hears a trumpet of curses that herald her orgasm and when the last of the tremors has subsided he moves her to sit on his chest, his thumb lazily tracing the folds of flesh between her thighs.

“What’d’ya think Boss, you want to stop here?”

She reaches behind her and brushes her fingers along his still hard cock.  “What about you?”

“I’m asking about you.”

She smiles and leans to kiss him and he pushes himself up to meet her lips.  She laughs as she half tumbles into his lap, it’s a sound Bull has heard too rarely.  He holds her away from him, his hands tracing the lines of her body while she keeps his face trapped with ice blue eyes.

“Is something wrong?” She asks, doubt creeping into her voice.  “Do you want to stop.”

He smiles at her, a big goofy grin.  “No, nothing.”

“But?”  She brushes her thumb against his cheek.

“You want to stop, at any time, you tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“Good,” Bull growls.

Blunt fingers hold her still and suddenly Roxy finds herself feeling very small beneath the Iron Bull.  He takes both her hands in one of his and kisses her knuckles before pinning them above her head.  He places rough kisses down her jaw and stops to nip her clavicle.

She wants to rake her fingers down his back, to hold his head to her breast while his tongue circles her nipple.  She wants to dig her nails into the small of his back and urge him to take her but her wrists are still pinned by one frustratingly large grey hand.  She settles for wrapping her legs around his hips.

He chuckles deep in his chest and let’s go of her hands standing between her thighs at the foot of the bed before she can get her arms around him.  “Are you in a hurry, Boss?”

“Hisrad,” she whines, “please.”

He smirks as he leans down within reach of her arms, cock braced at her entrance one hand tangled in her hair, he pulls her head back as his lips brush her ears.  “Iron Bull,” He draws the words out to match the blissfully slow way he enters her. “No more Hisrad.”

“ _Iron Bull_ ,” she moans, back arching in response.

He gives her time to accommodate him; she wriggles underneath him, moaning with each tug of her hair.  Finally he begins to move inside her and she raises her hips to meet his.  She claws red ribbons in his back before she wraps her hands around his horns and anchors herself in the air above his bed.  Her teeth mark his earlobe and he straightens, one hand finds her ass and he tries to set the pace, maintain control but he hears himself whimper when her teeth sink into his shoulder.

“F-fuck,” he grunts when he feels her clamp around him.

“A-ahn,” her hands drop from his horns and wrap around his neck pulling his face to hers.  “Maker Bull!”  She moans against his lips.

“Boss,” he pants and presses her back into the bed. 

“My name,” she whines, her heels digging into his ass, hips rising to meet his.

“R-Roxy,”  Bull grunts into her neck.

Her nails dig into his shoulder blades and she moans.  “My real n-name.”

Bull buries his face between her breasts.  She has him now, completely in control from the rise of her hips to the clench of her cunt around his cock.  Her nails break skin on his back and he knows it’s all over.

“Rasazali!”  He cries into her chest and they come together.

They fucked twice more before she relinquished control. Two more rounds and she's passed out in his bed.  He’d meant to wake her in an hour, send her back to her room before sunrise.  He’d meant to stay awake until she left.  When he opens his eyes she's pulling on her boots, she looks over her shoulder when she hears his movement and smiles.

“Morning Old Man.”

He squints with his one good eye and rolls his shoulders.  “Morning Boss.” 

She kisses him quickly on the forehead before she stands to leave.  “I’ll wait for you in the Hall.”

Something  forces him to ask, “Did it work?”

She stops at the door and he sees her shoulders twitch with a quiet laugh before she looks back at him.  “Can’t say, may need another go just to be sure.”

The Iron Bull just stares after her, certain her laughter can be heard through all of Skyhold, without a witty response for once in his life.

 


End file.
